A Conversation Between Executioner And Prisoner
by Kag-kins
Summary: AU. The Trix sisters have won, and the remaining Winx Club members are to executed at Alfea in the morning. But one of the Winx has something to say to Stormy. Warning: If you're actually LOOKING for it you'll find FF content, but it wasn't intended.


It had been a hard battle, but worth it, Stormy thought. Just a week ago she and her sisters had stormed (how appropriately worded) Alfea and won. Now the once-sunny skies were dark with thunder, and the new headmistress was getting comfortable. Once the four remaining Winx brats were executed, the Trix would rule unopposed.

A click broke Stormy from her thoughts as the door to her office slid open. The aura told her the identity of her guest even before the fairy spoke. Frowning, Stormy turned. This was the third time. One of the Winx brats would die tonight.

Once Bloom had been killed by Icy, the rest of Alfea had crumbled. All of the members of the Winx club except one had been captured, their spirits broken by the death of their friend. All but the one that now leaned on Stormy's doorframe.

She had escaped from her cell two times before, but neither time had she tried to escape. The first she had tried to rouse her friends from their near comatose states. The second time she had tried to get the remainder of Alfea to fight Stormy's regime.

The fairy was beginning to get irritating. Flora had always been the most obnoxious of them, at least to Stormy. Icy, of course, had focused on Bloom, and Stormy figured that Darcy had hated the Winx Club pretty much evenly. And now she'd had the nerve to go into Stormy's own office.

"I wonder if you regret anything." It was spoken with that annoyingly soft, calm voice that Stormy detested. Calling a lightning bolt, she readied it to fire.

"Why would I? I'm headmistress of Alfea, and your friends are dying tomorrow. You, for your intrusion, die tonight." Even faced with the purple lightning stretched between Stormy's hands, Flora was calm.

"We were always opposites, you and I. I envied you."

That statement startled Stormy so much she lost the power in the blot, and it faded. Envy? The goody-two-shoes flower fae had envied her?

"I had the power of nature, of plants, of healing. You had the power of the wind, the rain, the sky. I have wings, yes—but flying is nothing to controlling the air you fly with."

Stormy had regained some of her wits.

"That's right, fairy. It's not. That's why we won. You should envy us." Flora, however, seemed to be lost in her own world. She didn't even hear the witch's barb.

"You had freedom, I had morals. Binds I don't mind—but sometimes, I wondered. If I was you, would I be able to use that freedom? Show my emotions, not just the calmer ones, but also the fierce ones? Rage, hurt, fear? I wondered."

Stormy was nearly gaping. Envy of another's powers she could understand. Hadn't she always been jealous of Icy's abilities? But wanting of someone else's spirit? Why would Flora, born and raised with squeaky-clean standards, want to be like her, Stormy?

"Then I'd remind myself that you were evil. I was good, I was better." As if her thoughts mirrored Stormy's own, she continued.

"But why was I better? I was raised good. I never had a chance to be anything else. I wondered. What if I had had a chance to be like you? Did you have a chance? To be like me? In the darkness of the night, did you have any regrets? Hopes, fears?"

Forcing herself to break from the almost hypnotic gaze of Flora, Stormy narrowed her eyes. Was she placing some sort of spell?

"Envy or not, you brats are dead tomorrow. Now go back to your cell and wait patiently."

Flora's glazed look faded, and a small smile appeared. That startled Stormy anew. Who smiled when they were reminded of their impending doom? Had Flora gone mad at Bloom's death too?

Stepping back into the hallway, Flora slid the door shut, and as she did so, she said in parting,

"You didn't answer my question." And then she was gone, leaving Stormy to wonder. Did she regret anything? A second later she berated herself internally. Of course not! The Winx brat was just trying to mess with her head. The storm witch had won. What did she have to regret? Only that they hadn't gotten the Dragon Fire sooner! But a small doubt remained.

The next morning, four executions took place. Darcy and Icy were there, of course. They had decided to burn the fairies at the stake, a tribute to their fallen kin who had met the same fate. Stella was first—her powers of sunlight had gone as insane as she had, and the princess needed to go before the wards on her shackles broke for sheer pressure. She had a different execution from the others—being burned would not work on a sun fae. Icy froze her, and then broke the ice.

Then went Musa. The loud girl had been silenced by Bloom's death, and did not even utter a scream as she burned.

Third was Techna. Unlike Musa, she had been uttering a continuous stream of nonsense under her breath from the moment her mind had snapped. From what the witches could decipher, it seemed to be probabilities of Bloom being alive, and of Alfea's winning. The pain of the flames around her had only worked its way to her brain at the last moment, when she shrieked before the fire finally consumed her.

Last was Flora. The others had been dragged, their limbs unmoving, to the platform, but Flora gracefully walked toward it, serene between two guards. As the fire devoured her, she locked her eyes with Stormy's then said, voice unstrained by pain as her skin turned black,

"I die free."

Icy and Darcy laughed. But only Stormy knew exactly what Flora had meant. And the small doubt grew.


End file.
